Thicker Than Water
by Eriks Little Stalker
Summary: Answer to a challange by Gidget girl: What if The Key was -not- sent to the slayer, but two vampires, in a form of a teenage-hormonal-bomb of a daughter? Poor Spike..
1. Default Chapter

Thicker than water;  
  
by, meee!!  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing...only, and I mean only, Courtney. Apart from some teachers, friends from school..eeech.   
  
Sum: Answer to a chalange by Gidgetgirl. What if "the key" didn't have the major plot line in Buffy. But, was actually a  
  
big plotline for Angel? When the monks send the oringinal big ball of energy to two of ther most deadly vampires in the world,   
  
in a form of a thirteen year old daughter. Courtney.   
  
Notes: This is a somewhat form of Real Me, set in Courtney's point of view, only set in AU season five of Angel.   
  
SPIKE AND DRU:  
  
requirements:  
  
Spike, Dru, and the key-child must make an odd kind of family, where Spike oscillates back and forth from "evil vampire" to a   
  
"young lady" kind of mode where he is overprotective. Dru must like playing house and mummy to the child.   
  
The child must sneak out.  
  
The child may have vampiric powers.  
  
The child may have visions.  
  
Authors Note: Now, I'm still working on my NOES story, I promise. I really will try too. But, its midnight and I found this...  
  
and I was inspired. Sue me!  
  
WARNING: Not does this story have violence, and swearing, it also deals with slight subjects of 'girly-issues.' Offended,   
  
don't read it.   
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
(Dear Diary,  
  
Dad. Is. Annoying! I'm thirteen, not five years old! But, does he ever listen? No. Why? Because, in his demented mind, I'm  
  
still his little girl. Thirteen! I'm in seventh grade now! And he will not let me go to the school dances because boy's will   
  
be there. )  
  
Spike let a already shorted cigarette fall onto the ground of the apartment complex. A rather nice one, at that.His  
  
full pale pink lips together in a James-Dean-sort of pout, his high cheek bones flex into his strong, normally sullen, though  
  
now firm facial features. His cool gray eyes look into this teenager girl infront of him. He wore a tight black, shirt sleaved  
  
shirt, his usual, though for some reason he took a fancy to jeans. They were comfortable. A black belt held his black, he's not a   
  
light colored person, faded jeans that almost resembled a very dark gray, in place, with a silver clear belt buckle. His black spiked  
  
boots crushed the cigeratte onto the hardwood tile of the mini-sized kitchen, and squished it. Never leaving his firm set eyes   
  
off the girl, he blinks only once.  
  
"No." He says firmly, his dark eye brows raised. The girl infront of him, that wore a pair of tan capre's, white flip  
  
flops with a little flower on the toe parts, and a white tank top, with a tan see through silk vest over it. With her arms folded   
  
against her thin chest, her wavy, dark strawberry blonde hair in a french braid, she narrows her brown eye brows as she lowers her  
  
dark, curly, long eyelashes at her father. "Why?" She more states, than asks, firmly. As if chalanging her father with her expression  
  
rather than action.   
  
Spike fills the gap from him and the homronal-bomb-shell of a daughter, and points his index finger, which was pail,  
  
and on his nail was some worn out, chipping black nail polish, at her, as he bent down some, though not too much. "You listen 'ere,  
  
young lady," be begines one of his tiring speeches, which he must never get old of, "I'm not 'aving my baby girl goin' to some dance--  
  
thing, so she could possibly get sozzled, or being taken advantage of by some silly sod of a boy!" He says, mentally his stomache  
  
rolls at the idea. He should of knewn this day would come, but he hadn't hoped for it. "I know what boys in yer' age group like...  
  
and sure as hell wouldn't like 'em lookin' at you." He streighted up, lowering his hands to his sides.   
  
Courtney rolled her own gray eyes, and sucked in her own very high cheek bones. She put a small, skin hand on her   
  
hip bone, as she looked up at her fater. Giving up her strong superious stance, she slouchers, and softly whimpers. Her brittish   
  
accent matching his own, though not as heavy.   
  
"Daddy!" She half whines, bouncing a little in place. her bottom lip jutted out. Another voice fills the room, a feminine,  
  
soft brittish one, yes another one, as hands slowly worked their way up his broad shoulders, thend down, fingers lingering sensualy on  
  
his muscled arms. "No yelling.." Drusilla says, leaning into Spikes ear, softly growling seductively.   
  
( Mum is a little better, but, she still thinks of me as a baby, everyone thinks I'm the baby still! It's not right..)  
  
"My little princes.." Drusilla says silkenly, a slow, yet caring grin spreads apon on her face. Bouncing in place, she slowly  
  
tip toes toward her petite daughter, putting a caring hand on her small head. "Princess want to have a tea party..Mis.Edith and Miss.Victoria  
  
may not come, though.." absentmindedly, Dru's hazel eyes drift off to the ceiling of the pent house of sorts. Not even apartment. Rather nice,  
  
even though the money was all from Spike and Drusilla's victims wallets.   
  
( And I over exagerate? )  
  
-TBC-  
  
Note: I wanted to show S/D's relationship to the kiddo, next chapter its when she meets Angel...and Wesley..muahaa. 


	2. You KILLED a bug!

Thicker than water;  
  
by, meee!!  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing...only, and I mean only, Courtney. Apart from some teachers, friends from school..eeech.   
  
Sum: Answer to a chalange by Gidgetgirl. What if "the key" didn't have the major plot line in Buffy. But, was actually a  
  
big plotline for Angel? When the monks send the oringinal big ball of energy to two of ther most deadly vampires in the world,   
  
in a form of a thirteen year old daughter. Courtney.   
  
Notes: This is a somewhat form of Real Me, set in Courtney's point of view, only set in AU season five of Angel. Very AU.  
  
SPIKE AND DRU:  
  
requirements:  
  
Spike, Dru, and the key-child must make an odd kind of family, where Spike oscillates back and forth from "evil vampire" to a   
  
"young lady" kind of mode where he is overprotective. Dru must like playing house and mummy to the child.   
  
The child must sneak out.  
  
The child may have vampiric powers.  
  
The child may have visions.  
  
Authors Note: Now, I'm still working on my NOES story, I promise. I really will try too. But, its midnight and I found this...  
  
and I was inspired. Sue me!  
  
WARNING: Not does this story have violence, and swearing, it also deals with slight subjects of 'girly-issues.' Offended,   
  
don't read it.   
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Angel ran his strong, rough, clammy cold hands through his spiked chestnut hair, as he passed his secretary, Harmony's, desk.   
  
What once was the son of a Irish silk merchant, Liam/Angel/Angelus was now head CEO of his nemisis since he came to the City of Angels. Wolfarm  
  
and Hart. He wore a silk, actually button up blue shirt, that showed the ripples of his muscled ribs, and black denim jeans. Yes, denim. He was  
  
a vampire from the GAP. Though, he never told anyone that. He stoped just as he was going passed Harm's desk when he noticed a faint sound, a sound  
  
of music.   
  
Backstreet Boys.  
  
"Uh..Harmony?" Angel asks, furrowing his chestnut brows together in wonderment mixed with confusion. The blonde, lucious haired, hazel eye vampire,  
  
pursed her lips together as she painted her nails a extra coat of hot pink, while chewing on two sticks of juicy fruit gum. So, the shansu vampire tried yet  
  
again. to be heard over the insanely cheerful music known as POP. "Harmony!!?"   
  
No answer.  
  
"HARMONY!"  
  
Startled, Harmony tugs the headphones, that still had music playing on in the background slightly, Harmony blinks her lashes, looking up at him  
  
with her doey 'how-may-I-help-you-don't kill me?' look. Furrowing his dark brows at her, Harmony sinks back into her chair. Laughing nervously. "Hey Boss?"   
  
She tries, though not successful on winning her employer..well, not really, sympathy. "Anything you need?" She tilts her head, ringlets of lose, golden curls  
  
fell around her face. Eternaly a eighteen year old teenage bombshell, and a obnoxious cheerleader. The list goes on. Angel raises his eye brow. "Were you listening  
  
to..." He manages to say it, almost afraid to admit he knows this generations type of music. "Backstreet Boy?" He tries, smiling akwardly. Pensively almost.  
  
Harmony stared at him wide-eyed. He KNEW music? And, to her, good music!? "Oh yeah!" She replies, finally turning the CD off, and putting her pink and black  
  
headphones back onto the mahagony desk, she grins with a new found respect, in her mind, for Angel. "I got the CD from Courtney! She's letting me borrow it 'till she gets  
  
out of her.." making a dopey 'sigh' face, she imitates the thirteen year old girl. "I'm-Too-Old-For-The-Backstreetboys.." resuming back to her normal posture, "phase,  
  
I get to enjoy myself!" She declares..nodding her head some.  
  
Angel groaned inwardly. Courtney. The teenage-hormonal-bomb shell of a grandaughter, which he prefeers neice..he was young, damnit, was a wild card. From obbsessively  
  
happy music, to music much like her fathers -- where the singer just screams for no apparent reason, making that 'art'-- anything about her was a paradox.   
  
As he began to walk away, Harmony's eyes widened with new found knowledge. "OH! I almost forgot!" She pipes up, litterally streightening up in her seat as she searches for  
  
and unknwon paper. Finding it, holding it up, she reads her own handwritting, which the I's are all doted with stars or hearts. "Pick.Courtney.Up.From.School.Tomarrow." She punctuates  
  
each word, satisfied, grinning widely she places the paper down, nodding.   
  
"WHAT!?"  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"Sir, if we dig any deeper we could of gotten to the core of the earth!" Lamely joked a minion, Demetri, in his Russian thick accent. The oldest, next to Spike, who  
  
eyed him warningly as he stood by the minion, muscled arms folded against his well toned chest. Spike deadbeats, uncaring of any minions feelings. "I'll go to the sodding core of the  
  
earth to gete this gem!" He states, then quickly, grabs the vampire with his fist, on the back side of the kneck, slaming his head face first onto the wooden table, knocking some cheap  
  
decorations they put in, if Courtney ever decided to bring a friend over, that they'll seem normal...or a tastey real-estate agent..  
  
"Understand?" He askes, tightening his grip on Demetri's throat. Though, he could not breathe, Demetri struggled for uneeded breaths. "Understood." He replies, chockingly. Sighing,  
  
Spike released his grip, rolling his eyes, then downcasted his gray orbs to the map. "Once I find the ring," He begans his rant; That's going to take a quite a while, "I'll watch the slayer burn,  
  
and there will be nothing she can bloody ----"  
  
"DADDY!!!" A scream was heard through out the house, the two other minions, Jackob and Thrasher, rolled their eyes at the teenage girl. While Demetri, still rattled from his recent  
  
attack, struggled to compose himself. Spike, on the other hand was concerned, as well annoyed. Annoyed for the fact his speech was ruined. "What is it, Strawberry?" He asks her, then shifts a glare at   
  
Thrasher, who snickered under his breath in referance to his daughters nickname.   
  
( See, look at it this way...everyone seems to think Vampires are scary? Oh they're so not! Oh my God! They die from a bad case of heart burn!? Not scary. You know waht is scary? Freddy Krueger. Now,  
  
if he came to town, then that'd make Angel run from his money..speaking of Angel, he reminds me of.. )  
  
"THERE'S A BUG!"  
  
A sodding BUG! Spikle grumbled under his breath, and marched into his daughters rather pink, with white clouds, and a bassenet, with a single bed that has tie dye sheets. He thought they were ugly,  
  
but Courtney had to have them. Brat. He saw his daughter, in her carebear pajama's, ha, and she was too old for them, her hair down, as she hugged her knee's to her chest, and squealed at the spider. Drusilla  
  
sat beside her daughter, rather disapointed that their mother-and-daughter tea party was cancled by the eight legged beast. No scones for him, then! Drusilla's hazel eyes, as both Spike's and Courtney's gray ones  
  
stared down at the fiend.  
  
A little baby garden spider. Harmless. To Spike, anyway. But to the two ladies in the room? Evil.   
  
Sighing, rolling his eyes, he steps on the insect, crushing it to bits with his black spiked boot. Smirking, he drops his hands to his sides, slouching some.  
  
"There ya go, Papa Spike saves the day!" He exclaims, his smirk fading at his daughters astonishment.  
  
"You killed it?" She says, almost breathlessly.   
  
"Well, yeah.."  
  
"Murderer!"  
  
Sodding teenage hormones...Spike rolled his eyes. He has been doing this quite awhile, being irritated and all that. It was weird, he was narcissistic, and arrogant, but he was being way too arrogant for his taste.  
  
It was as if this, was all a sham. Or as the petite blonde slayer said, 'ham-with-sham'. Stupid girl, he'll make her pay one day. Turning to leave, a thought, more so a reminder, poped up into his head, as he turned his spiked  
  
boots leather interior heels back to the two, well, one woman and the other mini-sized-woman. "Forgot, grandpoof is picking ya' up tomarrow." With that, not wanting to hear another squeal of displeasure from his daughter, who evidently  
  
gets it from Drusilla, he quickly walks out of the room, wincing at her war cry scream.  
  
"WHAT!!?"  
  
{Oh...My...God. NO! NO! I will not spend a day with Sir-Broods-a lot. NO! I don't care if I can get away with almost anything from him, he's old! And smelly! NO! )  
  
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	3. Wesley Sigh

DISCLAIMER: Look on the first two pages, Jesus.

"Courtney! Get in the car?" Angel tried, holding both hands on the stearing wheal, in a "two-o'clock and ten-o'clock" style of holding. He looked around, slightly self-concious of the people he could see in the partly rolled down window, which was all covered in black spray paint, other than few spots for looking on the free way, or road, to drive on. His black trench coat reflected the head of the light, which made it slightly unnerving to the two hundred year old Irish vampire. Wearing a black silk shirt, with ebony buttons, and ebony jeans, with a belt in braded with an 'angel' on the buckle. To which; was possibly the only other color other than black included in today's, and every days, wardrobe To most people, though not as bad as Spike, he would be considered a tad Goth. Though, he had streaks of dark blonde in his chestnut spiked hair. It should count for something?

He thought it should.

_(Angel is my grandfather...I think? I'm quite not sure on the family lineage, well, what the vampirism part of my heritage is aligned with. 'The Order of Aurelius' or what not? Anyway, Angel is a vampire. With a soul. He broods from end-to-end. And then he fights evil, and then he broods from end-to-end. Then he goes to bed. Then, wakes up! And a cycle of doing what's right and brooding starts up like a never-ending ride of 'Small World' at Disney World. Or land. Forgot which one that was on...)_

His dark eyebrows furrowed irritably at the thirteen year old girl that stood only about four feet away from his car. Her hair was down, and curled at the ends for body. She wore a blue jean jacket, jean capries, and a pink halter top under the blue jean jacket. Along with a pair of white sneakers. The 'flip-flops' she so desires to wear everywhere wasn't allowed in her JR. High School. To Angel, it was tacky.

Sometimes, he wonders, if Connor liked girls in flip-flops? With his new life, oddly enough Courtney was the closest thing to Connor. And Connor was her best friend, a big brother if you will. Now, she forgot him. They all did. But, he never did. He couldn't.

He saw his face. Face as a baby, face as a teenager, and what it would look like when he's a full grown adult? Grandfather? Or what it looked like in his later and early childhood? And how his first week of JR. High would be like? Now, he's reliving his grandchild's experience.

"Courtney!" He growls lowly, meeting her icy glare, and a hang on her hip, with his pleading chocolate brown eyes. "Get.In.The.Car." He says, punctuating each word with maximum effort to be strict, but God knows the only person who could discipline Courtney was Darla. No, he won't go down memory lane. Not again.

"No! I'm not getting in that bloody awful car!" The teenager screeches. "It smells, Angel. It smells like dead things!" She stomps her sneaker against the paved concrete in emphasis, groaning. Her mixed of American and English accent rang through out the air in a strained whispering voice, as if she didn't want anyone else to hear.

"Courtney, you wouldn't want me to get out of this car!" Angel warns her, his temper raising by the moment. She was truly her fathers daughter.

"No!"

"Courtney – "

"NO!"

_(He treats me like I'm still the nine year old he saved that one, underline one please, one time! A vampire chased me, and as Angelus, he saved my life. Then, he walked me home giving me a lecture. It's odd, Angelus never really hurt me. He just gave a lot of speeches on dead things, though more lucid than mum ever was. He probably wanted to hurt me, many times, yet he did not. And, Angel is equally as protective. It's so...stupid! I'm thirteen now, I'm pratically a grown-up adult! I'm mature as one!)_

"COURTNEY!" His voice booms, unintentionally. "Get in this car or so help me God –" He didn't finish, and in his own astonishment, Courtney was in the passenger seat. Buckling her mohagany seat belt against her torso. After closing the door. With a cheerful, menacing smile, she raises her shoulders peppy like.

"I'm here!"

Wolfram & Hart wasn't as crowded as it was in the mourning, most employee's were on some break, or off duty, or just not around, or even dealing with clients in their own office. Fred walked down the the wooden steps, quite modern really, than usual steps, she thinks, her black heels clicking against the wood. She held a clip board against her chest, her chestnut waves were tied in a pony tail, her black rimmed glasses hanged off her nose as she hung her head down, contemplating on exactly why she was here? For this evil law firm, and all. Wasn't these the bad guys? And are they doing any good here?

She really did not know. But, she hide her concerns well. Possibly better than most of the original 'gang' from Angel Investigations. She was the sweetheart, she had to keep her chin up.

And **damnit**, it was hard keeping her damn chin up all the time!

"Fred!!" A high pitched, slightly brittish, voice squealed ten feet away from the steps. Courtney grinned widely and waved to her hero, as she dropped her tan back-pack at her feet, almost landing on Angel's boots, and ran up the first half of the flight of stairs.

_( Fred, is another story! She's so cool, and smart, and she gets why I like school, and why I like reading, more than anyone else. Did I mention she is so cool?)_

Fred chuckled surprisingly, tucking her clip board in her right under arm, and with her free arm, pulled her little science pal into a hug. "How's my favorite Biology lab partner doing?" She asks, her Texan accent unhidden, only for the fact that Courtney always loved her accent. And Texas, for that matter. It was nice to have someone to listen to the Dixie Chicks and watch a good old Rangers game with her.

Despite that her parents were the big evil of L.A. now, she thought it best to give Courtney a lee-way. As in, not assuming that she is evil. How could a science freak, as well a artsy-freak, like her little buddy be evil?

Courtney was always...just, Courtney.

Courtney shrugs innocently, her face in a full grin. Ignoring Angel's groan as he picks up her back pack, this was heavy with new sets of books for the year, and stomps off into his office.

"Maybe!" She says, in a sing-song-voice. "They offer advanced chemistry, but I would love to take a physics course..." she replies, drifting offward as Fred and her walk up the stairs, leaving Angel to be her personal luggage-boy, or sorts.

Fred grins, raising her shoulders higher in a perky jesture of excitement. "Isn't physics fun? "She asks, as the finally made it to the second floor, and made their way, walking as though they were sisters or friends discussing girlie things. Which, for them, is Sir Isaac Newton and how Molaire single-handedly changed theatre, sure. William Shakespeare was a big 'honcho' in his time, but Molaire was just as good as Shakespeare.

_(Fred gets me. She really does. At school, I'm kinda populare, you could say. I have to dress, and speak a different way. God knows I cannot let my accent go on full force. And just pretend that I have my Pre-AP classes. In reality; I love them! Eighth grade is just hard. No one will ever get how hard it is to be a thirteen-year-old girl. But, Fred has been there. She's only twenty-three or something? She remembers.)_

Pushing open the doors to the 'Grand Science Lab' as they joked, Courtney jumped up to a sitting positions to one of the clear tables. Her legs dangling, barely even touching the floor.

"You're in eighth grade now!" Fred says, putting on her white lab coat and glasses/ She was near-sighted, just like Courtney was. Though, Courtney wore contacts. Glasses were so out at school.

"I remember..." the Taco Bell craving Texan started, "You bein' this shy little girl, how you used too read all the time, goodness! You had to be about eleven when I first met ya!" Fred says, taken back by this revelation. "Goodness gracious! Now you're becomin' a woman.." She says, walking over to Courtney, playfully, and weakly, nudging her in the arm, causing the younger girl to giggle. "And soon you're gonna date, and drive, and before we all know it you're gonna get your diploma!" Fred says, grinning to show her white teeth.

"If I marry Hayden Christensen, "Courtney begines, giggling. "I think I'll die happy!"

_(...He is cute! I saw Star Wars Episode Two, despite me being a in-the-closet-starwars-fan, how I do sympathize with Leia! But, secreatly, there is another man that I wish to marry...someday...)_

"I do hope Mr.Christensen knows that a former Rogue Watcher would beed him to a bloody pulp for laying a finger on you?" Wesley Wyndam-Price says, playfully as he enteres the laboratory, grinning from ear to ear. Gray sweater, glasses, jeans. And he was the most beautiful thing Courtney has ever whitnessed.

Rolling her eyes, acting cool around the man she idol-whorshiped since the day he came to be Buffy's replacement watcher for Giles.

"Hi Wes." She says, giggling at his humor, and as he pulls her into a half hug.

(Wesley. True, he see's me as a kid sister now, someone to protect and play-around-with, but, I won't be a little girl forever. Maybe we can have a Honeymoon in Tibet?)

"And how are you, Ms. Courtney?" He says, letting go of the hug he had the younger girl in, playfully ruffling her hair. "Keeping out of trouble, I bet?" He says, winking at her, then walks over to Fred. Grinning softly to her, and her him.

_(Only one probleme to this theory; ...)_

"Hi Wes!" Fred greets.

"H...Hello, Fred.." He stammers awkwardly.

_( ...he likes my best friend. )_

Unknown to the two adults, the teenager sighs, softly, semi- melodramaticly.

_(My life is way too tragic, Hamlet was lucky. At least he got the person he liked.)_


End file.
